My Fair Lazy: One Reality Television Addict's Attempt to Discover if Not Being a Dumb Ass Is the New Black, or a Culture-Up Manifesto by Jen Lancaster Read Free Book Online Page A

up when Fletch suggested I check our banking rewards points. I logged on and found we had enough saved up for a nonstop round-trip ticket. Victory!
    “Aw, wait,” I said, remembering. “I can’t use these points.”
    “Why not?” Fletch asked, reading over my shoulder. “I don’t see any restrictions or blackout dates.” Since apparently Fletch standing next to me constitutes a party, Maisy hopped off her couch and wedged her way under my desk. She perched her head on my knee and gazed up soulfully at me. I began to stroke her silky ears.
    “Yeah, but if I waste these for a flight, then I won’t have enough to get the reward I really wanted. Check this out.” I pulled up the page and showed Fletch an image of a group of fit, attractive people in matching pink life vests careening through a deep canyon on a churning river. “See how much fun that blond family’s having on those rapids?”
    He scanned the page. “You want to redeem award points for a trip to the Grand Canyon? Wow. Never thought I’d see you opt for an active vacation.” Whenever we’ve gone to Vegas, I’ve parked myself at the pool from ten a.m. until six p.m., taking every meal in my lawn chair and only getting up to swim and use the bathroom. 46
    “Oh, please, I don’t want the trip; I want the boat!”
    Fletch squinted at the screen and then back at me. “What the hell are you going to do with a twelve-foot raft?”
    “ Pfft , white-water rafting, dude!”
    Fletch drew in a really big breath and slowly released it through pursed lips, causing a little plume of dust to fly up off my desk and onto Maisy’s sweet head. I brushed it away, prompting her to give my knees a thorough licking. “You have any idea how to operate a white-water raft?”
    “I’m sure it comes with an instruction booklet. And how hard could it be? You sit, it goes. Kind of like a riding lawn mower. Easy-peasy.”
    “You have any idea how to operate a riding lawn mower?”
    “No, but that’s beside the point. Forrest Gump could drive a riding mower. Think about it—he was s-l-o-w.” 47
    “Your logic is irrefutable.” He rocked back on his heels, placing a hand on my shoulder. I detected a hint of smug about the eyes but chose to ignore it.
    I pointed at a line of text on the screen. “Says here this is a twelve-foot rigid inflatable. I’m not sure what the means, but it sounds awesome!”
    “Awesome,” he agreed. “And you plan to white-water raft . . . where? The wild rapids of the Chicago River? Gonna perfect your sweep stroke while you cruise past the steel recycling plant on Elston? Or navigate the strainer at Navy Pier?”
    “There’s got to be somewhere in Illinois to go, right? Oh, but we’d have to get a couple of those silly little helmets first. 48 We might have enough points for those, too.” I tabbed through the other pages of rewards.
    “Sure, sure, that all sounds like a fine plan. But, um . . . where will you store your twelve-foot rigid inflatable?”
    “In the rafters up in the garage. Naturally, I’d have to deflate it first. Also, I’d have to get rid of the baby pool currently up there, but I’d be willing to make that sacrifice.” Maisy lay down on my feet in a show of solidarity. “See?” I asked, pointing to the dog. “She supports my decision fully. Remind me to get her a doggie life jacket so she can come with us.”
    “I’m certainly glad you’ve secured the dog’s vote. But tell me, you plan to reinflate the raft . . . how?”
    “Bicycle pump, duh .”
    “Of course, bicycle pump. You could blow up your raft while you watch television.”
    I nodded. “That’s the plan.”
    “Our living room’s only eleven feet long.”
    “I’ll angle it.”
    “We used a twelve-foot rigid inflatable in the Army. Took seven men on either side to paddle it. Wasn’t easy paddling, either; each stroke of the oar was like lifting a shovel full of wet sand. So, if fourteen fit men had trouble moving the raft from point A to